


i beg you to believe

by carrotstix



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Angst, F/F, i guess, tbh mary just wants to pray away her gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrotstix/pseuds/carrotstix
Summary: "she is not an idiot. she knows, has always known, there is something between her and princess mary. she's known from the first time she saw that pleading look she wore at the end of her first visit. she's known since her cheeks and neck flushed scarlet as she stumbled to find words she could say that would excuse her from the house. she's known with every jump she feels in her chest every time another letter arrives.but there is no way she can, could ever, be with mary."





	

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i wrote 2/3s of this months ago, and i just went back and found it, so i wrote up the last third and threw it right up after like .3 seconds of editing

_‘i beg you to believe that i cannot help loving you.’_  
natasha reads that line over and over again, repeating the words in her head until she thinks that they may be burned in there. she cannot stop herself, unable to tear her gaze away from the paper.  
_i_ _cannot_ _help_ _loving_ _you_  
_loving_ _you_  
_loving_  
_you_  
she is not an idiot. she knows, has always known, there is something between her and princess mary. she's known from the first time she saw that pleading look she wore at the end of her first visit. she's known since her cheeks and neck flushed scarlet as she stumbled to find words she could say that would excuse her from the house. she's known from the jump she feels in her chest every time another letter arrives.  
but there is no way she can, could ever, be with mary.  
it is simply unacceptable to be with another woman, especially for two women of their stature. keeping a relationship like that a secret would not be a feasible feat for them, even if you ignored the fact that natasha were engaged to andrey.  
natasha knows, now, that she cannot marry him. there is no way that she could stand to live the rest of her life only inches away from the princess, knowing that the line between them was something she could never cross.  
but there is anatole, as well. charming, noble. he is not the smartest or the most level-headed, but he is taken with her and willing to whisk her far, far away from moscow, and far away from mary bolkonskya. living with him for the rest of her days, pretending to love him, that is something natasha can do. she would rather have anatole than no one. even he is better than solitude, and she would take living off in holland with him before being forced to dance around the bolkonsky household and around princess mary.  
when she plans to elope with him, as she waits for him, she thinks of the princess. she had already written off to the bolkonskys, breaking her engagement with andrey. she wonders how mary felt. distressed, offended? was she _relieved_?  
does she know why? surely, she must.  
but natasha never gets to leave with anatole. sonya finds the letters he had written and turns her in marya, who puts her on instant lockdown. and in the heat of the moment, in her panic, natasha poisons herself with arsenic. she regrets it only moments afterward, rushing to her cousin’s bedside to admit to what she had done.  
the next week passes in a haze of doctors and illness and regret. sonya is there everytime she opens her eyes, and marya enters and leaves her room at will. there is concern in both their eyes, although marya tries to hide it beneath her disappointment.  
when she starts to recover, they start to lay into her once more. sonya is delicate in tone and words, but marya rips her open and spits like an angry dog until natasha finds herself crying. nonetheless, they start to allow visitors, the first of whom is pierre, a dear family friend and anatole’s own brother-in-law.  
“i am sorry.” this is what he says to her across the drawing room. he stands by the door, his fur cloak hung beside it. natasha finds herself frozen in the middle of the drawing room, her skin nearly as pale as the nightgown draped over her.  
“i knew of anatole’s marriage, and his plan to elope,” pierre admits.”but i did not know that these plans were to make off with you, natalya. if i had, i would have told you, i swear.”  
natasha holds no ill-will towards the man, but she does not offer her forgiveness. “i have ruined myself,” she says instead, shaking. “i have ruined myself with a man i did not even love.”  
pierre is taken aback, shock crossing his face. “you did not love him?”  
“no.”  
“then what compelled you to run away with him?”  
natasha swallows, turns her head to the window. there is something about pierre that makes her desire to spill all of her truths. “i could not stand to stay in moscow.”  
“what is wrong with moscow?”  
“mary bolkonskaya.”  
if pierre finds anything about this horrifying, he keeps it off of his face. instead, all he shows is pity, a sadness for her in his eyes.  
“you cannot make your decisions in order to avoid a woman,” he says. “no matter your feelings.”  
natasha says nothing else, and after a long silence, pierre goes to get his cloak. he wishes her well before he throws it around his shoulders and steps out under the full moon of moscow, leaving natasha alone in an empty room that seems to become colder without the presence of another.  
she leaves the room confused and dizzied, but when she falls into bed that night, she has the easiest sleep she’s had for weeks now.  
the next day does not bring pierre back, and instead, brings another visitor. when natasha comes to the drawing room, she finds the princess bolkonskaya fidgeting by the door, and nearly freezes.  
when mary sees her, her face goes pale and she stops moving, staring at natasha with a look in her big eyes.  
“countess rostova,” she greets, stiff and formal.  
natasha, recovering from some of her shock, swallows. “princess bolkonskaya,” she replies in kind. “what brings you here?”  
from across the room, mary looks small and skittish, hands clasped together so tight her knuckles are paling.  
“i have heard of your illness,” she answers. “i came to check in on your health and wish you well.”  
“what reason do you have to care of my state of being, after what has happened between andrey and i?”  
“you were, at one point, to be part of my family,” mary states. “and, despite the stance my brother maintains, i'm sure he would be pleased to hear positive news on your health.”  
natasha bites down on the inside of the cheek until she can taste rust and iron. “but your reasons go beyond your brother, do they not?”  
“natalya, i-”  
“what are you real reasons for caring of my health?” the countess asks, her question almost more of a demand.  
“natasha, you must know.”  
“of course i know.”  
“then why ask?”  
“i want to hear it.”  
mary looks as if she wishes to leave, but she makes no move towards the door.  
“you cannot ask me to say that aloud.”  
“i can if it was the reason for my near elopement with anatole kuragin.”  
“i never pressured you into anything that might warrant you to make such a decision.”  
“you didn't need to! just your presence, you being so close, is enough to drive me mad.”  
“the blame for that cannot be placed on me.”  
“then where should i place it? i cannot help my feelings any more than you can.”  
“ _you_ are the one choosing to acknowledge them.”  
“feelings like these are not meant to be ignored,” natasha says.  
“feelings like these are not meant to be had,” mary counters.  
“then why do we have them?”  
the princess falls mute, unable to craft a response. natasha, emboldened by a flare a determination, takes a step into the room, and another as she continues to speak.  
“there is something between us, mary,” she states. “and i can ignore it as best i can stop breathing.”  
“you have tried to do such a thing already,” the princess points out. “you nearly succeeded.”  
“but i did not,” natasha argues. “this is the same; despite having tried to deny what is between us, i cannot. my feelings for you-”  
“do not,” mary interrupts. “do not say you have feelings for me.”  
“i should not lie-”  
“but you also should not sin! it is a _sin_ , natasha!”  
“i have already sinned before, and likely, you have as well. if we are already damned, what is the point?”  
the princess bolkonskaya looks somewhere between frightened and angered. “you may already consider yourself damned, natalya, but i do not,” she hisses, moving to grab her coat and wrap it around her shoulders. “i am not going to entertain these ideas with you, i am sure my father needs me at home.”  
“denial is dishonesty, princess. you cannot free yourself of sin, no matter what you do.”  
“it is something i can repent for,” she replies, words biting. “what your are suggesting is not.”  
mary moves into the doorframe, and as she wraps her hand around the knob, she turns back to natasha.  
“goodnight, countess,” she says, firm, and the door swings open.  
“goodnight, princess,” the other woman answers, and the only response is the door slamming shut.

**Author's Note:**

> natasha, my problematic lil babe


End file.
